


Breathing Solstices

by dasakuryo



Series: fluttering thrill at the end of our fingertips (blissbirth) [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 07:05:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11286180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasakuryo/pseuds/dasakuryo
Summary: Cassian is about to leave for an undercover mission that will keep him away for a month... at the very least. Their time together is running out and Jyn wants to hold on to every second. She fears for him, and it doesn't go unnoticed for Cassian. //[In which time and distance brew longing, but Jyn is afraid of what the future might hold, Cassian tries to dispel her worries.]





	Breathing Solstices

**Author's Note:**

  * For [too_wise_to_woo_peaceably](https://archiveofourown.org/users/too_wise_to_woo_peaceably/gifts).



> Written for for too-wise-to-woo-peaceably. It started as a fill for a prompt on Tumblr, but halfway the story took a completely different turn and I just rolled with it. Hope you all enjoy it! :)

"When are you leaving?"

It's not something Jyn wants to let her mind dwell on at that very moment, not when she is cradled on the warmness of his chest, not when the sway of his breathing is lulling her to sleep. But she knows _this_ , his arms looped around her and pulling her close, the ghostly tickle of his breath on her neck, the kiss of his fingertips skimming aimlessly over her arm, isn't going to last forever. She knows that this momentary truce they've been given has an expiration date.

She feels him tense, and the draw is quick to materialize. He pulls her close, his breathing suddenly hot, as he buries his face on her shoulder. A fleeting flush clings to her there where he presses his lips; they meet her skin once, the brush and sudden cold when he parts make her toes curl. Then his mouth nudges the very same spot again and her breath shudders; the scrape when he withdraws is painfully slow, as if he was trying to drag on the contact. His arm lowers south, and tethers her by the waist to him even further.

"Cassian?" she asks, and in the silence the room is plunged into her whisper sounds strident.

Her fingers scratch his hand when they twitch out of their own accord at his silence.

"In two days," his voice sounds hoarse and hollow to her ears.

Her stomach churns right underneath the welcoming weight of his arm. _Two days_. She nibbles her lip and sucks in a breath, gripping his hand into hers, sliding her fingers under his palm to clasp it tighter. He buries his face into the crook of her neck, presses another kiss, but doesn't pull away afterwards. He harbors on the curve of her shoulder, and hot and cold shudder over her, matching with the swell and shrink of his chest on her back.

Jyn swallows and lets her hand be the one to draw adrift patterns on his arm. He takes a deep breath, nuzzles her hair, filling his lungs with her scent. The urge to turn around to look at him boils in her veins, but she doesn't even stir. She presses her lips together, keeps on stroking his arm. With every inhale, the air seems heavier. She swallows again, but the lump has knotted her throat. Her toes brush along his ankle when she shifts in her spot. Cassian wrinkles the cotton of her shirt; she can feel his fingertips, warm, on her stomach.

"Or tomorrow," his murmur stabs the silence and something inside her shatters, "if my contact can secure the alias sooner."

The sheets rustle. Her hand rests on his chest, she hovers above him and he cranes his neck to look at her. The faint yellow light of the halo-lamp above their heads is enough for Jyn to see the corners of his lips curl up.

"How long?" her voice is barely above a whisper.

Her heart throbs and pounds when he darts his gaze away from her face. He licks his lips; she feels the familiar grip on her waist. He plunges dips on her skin before meeting her gaze again. His voice wraps around a whisper, a rustle rolling out his mouth, "a month," his throat bobs but his warm brown eyes don't look away from the glimmering green, "up to two... if there are no suspicions hovering over my head, High Command wants me to work undercover— we might not get another chance to tamper and have that kind of access."

Jyn has heard of the rise in military operations. It is part of the reason why infantry, specifically Pathfinders squads, have so much work these days. The Empire is trying to secure its control across the Outer Rim, after the Battle of Scarif sparks of rebellion have been igniting all over backwater planets and systems. Even seemingly harmless populations have started to revolt and riot. The Empire is starting to hammer down with full force at the mere indication of _subversion and treason_. Rumors have spread about major military operations in simultaneous, a series of swift strikes. Lately, the HoloNet has been flooded with dozens of Core politicians and Imperial officials speaking of smothering any kind of threat. Transmissions to Empire cruisers have been broadcasted, admirals and generals speaking about their efforts in locating and bringing an end to these _rebels_ , these _terrorists_ that want nothing but to instill fear, ruin the lives of innocent Imperial citizens and destroy the _peace_ the Empire has worked so hard to ensure—

His upcoming mission might as well be the most important he's had since Scarif.

The emotions claw and tear at her heart in opposing directions. Jyn feels guilty for even letting the thought flicker through her mind. She knows what is at stake; she knows Cassian is one of the best —if not _the best_ — choice for such a high profile, sensitive mission. It doesn't stop the heartache from blossoming and swelling behind her ribs.

She lets out the air in one long, heavy sigh, while her hand strolls up to his neck. The heaviness weighing on her chest eases a little when his eyes flutter shut and a whispered moan escapes his lips. She presses a kiss to his mouth, warmth pools low within her when his lips rub against hers and the moist feathery stroke caress them open. She relishes in the feeling of his breath curling inside her mouth, her chest swelling with it. His hand cradles her face.

Her ragged pant puffs out, their mingled exhales smothering. Their noses brush together as their catch their breath, and Jyn thinks there's nothing she cherishes more in this whole damned galaxy in that very moment than feeling the heat of Cassian's gasp colliding, ragged and muggy, with her swollen and moistened lips. Or maybe she's wrong, because Cassian jerks up and the way he sucks her upper lip builds whimpers on her throat, the way his hand slithers underneath her shirt and maps her chest sends shivers down her spine, the way he nibbles her lower lip followed by a tender fondle of his tongue makes her blood hum in her veins.

She lets out a sound built halfway between a moan and a whimper.

"Lo siento," he breathes the apology, forehead touching hers. He mutters something else in Festian that she can't quite catch, he pants and his lips graze over hers in a feathery touch, "I'm sorry."

She knows he's not talking about the coppery flavor she tastes on the tip of her tongue. She rubs her thumb along his jawline, down his neck. She wants to say that he doesn't need to apologize for anything. Jyn understands the Rebellion, the cause, will _always_ come first. She wants to remind him that she knows it, that she's made peace with that reality because that's his choice, because she understands his commitment. She wants to tell him he doesn't need to explain himself to her, never will have to. She wants to say she knows he's fighting for the good of others, for the freedom of others, for the future of the galaxy. She wants to tell him he has her full, wholehearted support. She understands, and respects, him committing his life to something bigger than himself—

She can't find the words. She can't find the words that sound right. So she leans forward and kisses him again, long and deep, until her lungs ache and her brain screams for air. Her eyes flutter shut, she tries to even her breathing again, and the bobbing of her chest meets Cassian's, suddenly too close. She doesn't bother to mask the contented sighed heave that falls out from her lips when his mouth skims kisses on the column of her throat.

"Cassian," she breathes out his name like a caress, a smile tugs at her lips when he hums in acknowledgment, nuzzling her neck, "I need—" her voice falters for a moment, not entirely nor merely out of pleasure, but heartache. It will be a long time until they can have this again, "I need you to promise me something—"

His grip on her side tightens. She straightens a bit, pulling back. He withdraws too, putting enough distance to fix his gaze on her. He blinks and his head tilts slightly. Jyn smooths the wrinkles of the cloth when she presses clawing fingers atop his heartbeat.

"Promise me you will be careful," she leans forward, snuggling against him. She buries her face in his chest to mask the shivering that takes hold of her voice.

She can hear —and feel— his heart pounding under her lips. Her fingers twitch and she squeezes her eyes shut. She's not naive; she knows what an undercover mission entails. She is aware of the ever looming latent dangers that come together with weighing a war against the Empire. She's not going to ask him to come back to her. It's not something he has complete control over. She's not going to feed into a deluded, gullible sentimentality.

"I will," he strokes her arm. Such a simple, casual, tender gesture of affection after letting themselves be overrun by their feelings just moments before, makes her cheeks hurt as the smile breaks through. "You too, okay?" he says then, voice soft but the graveness is evident in spite of it. She bits down the smile, nodding.

Silence settles over the room again. There is no other sound than the faint rustle of their breathing, and the occasional flutter of the sheets and blankets. Cassian breathing matches hers again, serene in their stillness and unison. She thinks how easy it'd be to surrender to the desire still pulsing in her veins, to give in to the need itching, crying out for him on her flesh. She thinks how easy it would be to flip around and pick up where they left off—

But she also wants to revel in moments like this, filled with innocent, casual simplicity. Moments of silent, tender and warm closeness. She wants to enjoy this, his company, his arms around her. She wants to drift to sleep lulled by the whispers of his sighing, with the promise of waking up to him in the morning.

She wants to enjoy this momentary stillness, this momentary peace, acting as if nothing's going to tear them apart.

Jyn wants to _pretend_ , if only for a few hours, for a few moments longer, that there's no other world than _this_. Jyn wants to cradle her battered heart into the illusion of what it isn't, but what it could be— if there was no war, no fighting, no Empire… just them.

But she can't. The future nudges her thoughts. She can't help but ponder on the fact he'd be cut off for, at least, the next month. She cannot stop thinking that this will be the last time in a long time she'd hear his voice, without being distorted and masked into an alien sound to her ears, filled with static. She cannot stop thinking that it will be the fulcrum emblem, and not his face, what would flicker before her eyes at every one of his upcoming transmissions.

Time—

She wishes they had _more_ time.

The mere fact they met on Pantora's base feels like a miracle. The Pathfinders weren't schedule to make that detour before returning to headquarters, but were forced to out of the serious injuries many have sustained during the last engaging in battle. Jyn's heart practically leapt out of her chest when her eyes recognized Cassian in the medbay. A vibro-blade wound that needed to be taken care of by a professional. Something tells her that wasn't the whole story, the stagger that is etched to his pace hints as much —but she doesn't press for details. Of course, Cassian doesn't hand them off either.

She's taken notice of his sudden, shuddering spasmodic recoils, so she figures the damage might be quite greater than a mere stab wound —it's not like she can assess it herself either, he slid into his nightshirt and cotton pants after heading to the fresher. The thought of him heading to another mission while still not having recovered from the previous makes her wrinkle his shirt between her fingers.

For his sake, Jyn hopes his contact doesn't secure the alias soon.

"Jyn, what's wrong?" his voice breaks the silence again.

"Nothing," she assures, which technically it's true. There's nothing wrong _right now_ , in this instant suspended in time, there's nothing wrong. It's the future that poses the risk, not the now. "Nothing's wrong," she says, voice firmer.

Cassian's fingertips send tickles over her arm.

"You sure?" he asks again, a tinge of worry in his voice.

Jyn shifts and bolts upright, towering above him once more. His hand abandons her waist and dives into her hair. She closes her eyes with a soft hum from her lips, leans into the touch, her fingers a swathe around his wrist. She presses a kiss to his palm; his fingertips scrape her hair. Nose still close against his skin, Jyn takes a deep breath.

"Jyn," he calls again.

At the soft stroke of his thumb on her chin, green meets brown again. He's gazing into her eyes, between his eyebrows confusion has wrinkled the smoothness. There is an edge of worry in his fleetingly narrowing gaze, in the way the corner of his eyes wrinkle.

 _I know you_ , he doesn't say anything, _what's wrong?_ he just keeps his eyes on her. But he might as well have. She can't fool him, he knows what to look for and how to read her. A million scenarios flash through her mind in that very moment, a million things that can happen to him working undercover for such a long stretch of time. She chokes with her intake of breath; the air doesn't reach her lungs. Her eyes sting. For once, she's glad about the dimness of the halo-light, shields her turmoil.

She shouldn't be harboring such thoughts. She shouldn't be stepping inside that darkness, not when he's with her, not when he's there, not when she can see him, touch him. And still, she _does_. Fear claws at her insides and her heart beats sorrow to the quickened tempo of apprehension. It's not only the dread of losing him what's turning her blood thicker—

It's the prospect of being left alone.

(Again.)

Abandonment.

To an extent it even feels wrong to even consider it in such terms, for what implies for the ties that bind them to Bodhi, Chirrut, Baze, and a handful of other people she's grown close to within the Rebellion itself--

It even tastes like some sort of twisted betrayal. Because if it happened, _no, don't ever let it be true,_ she can't blame it on him.

(The kyber weighs down on her neck.)

She is choking, her eyes burn. She looks down and nibbles her lip strong enough to draw blood. She doesn't want him looking at her. The last thing he needs is to add an abstract, yet tangible, source of worry to his mind... an intrusion in his mind, a source of distraction—

(Distractions don't go well with survival.)

“ _Jyn.”_

Her ragged exhale meets the worry of his widened brown eyes. The lone tear that meanders down her cheek when she blinks pools on his thumb. She doesn't say anything and keeps her eyes closed, feels the warmness of his hands cupping her face, the tender feathery flush of fingertips brushing along her cheeks.

It's when one of his hands strolls to the back of her neck, when she feels him shift, when she knows he's about to pull her into a hug, the moment her eyes snap open.

What has been choking her comes out in a strangled whimper.

“I love you.”

She doesn't say it often. She feels there's no need, thinks she can get the point across better with actions. In the end, words are words, and sometimes they fall empty. More often than never, Jyn's found words to be of little value. Actions always speak louder.

“I love you,” she repeats, but her voice still quivers and shakes, “I'm going to miss you.”

Cassian stifles the sob that climbs up her throat covering her mouth with his. It tastes like glory, like a pulsing promise in her tongue. He hugs her, close and warm, when she shudders against his chest. She grabs a fistful of his shirt, sniffing into the cloth.

Jyn hates being this vulnerable. She hasn't had the luxury to be vulnerable, to show weakness, for a long time. The mere action, the mere thought, seems alien, sometimes even dangerous. Its pulse, it's an uncomfortable one. One Jyn has never liked to deal with—

It's hard remembering at times that she can allow herself to lay down her shields with Cassian. It's an intimacy that still beats strange, unusual, to her. It's a closeness that treads on new soil.

“I will be careful,” he whispers in her ear, “I promise.”

Her head jerks awkwardly in a nod. She tightens the hug. It's the soft, slow, mapping of circles on her back what makes her trembling peter out. There are still a few tremors sweeping over her when she yanks up, searching for his mouth.

“I'm sorry,” she breathes out on his lips.

His lips rub against hers when he smiles, “don't be. It's okay.”

“The Rebellion needs its Fulcrum,” she says, biting down a smile, and there's a hint of pride in the way her voice borders on a giggle.

“And the Rebellion needs its Pathfinder Sargent,” he fights back, grazing his lips over hers in a feathery -almost teasing- stroke, “nice job at Shili, by the way. Pointed sticks and everything—” she groans and fights down the urge to bump him in the shoulder with a balled hand.

Apparently, she's going to have to ask Kes to keep his mouth shut, _again_.

A wide smile tugs at her lips, makes her cheeks hurt. They fall silent for a moment, breathing each other. Cassian's hand staying on her side comes to a sudden halt when a small shift riddles up her shirt. His touch is warmer then, his fingers tether waves of flush to the exposed curve of her waist. There's a faint, fluttering swish. Her breath, again heavy and shuddering, collides with his mouth. His fingers seem to dug into the soft dip by her hipbone.

If she's reading the hints right, she might as well leap at the chance.

“I need you now,” she whispers, “if you need me.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle before pressing a kiss to her lips.

They strip themselves off their clothes, the waiting, the longing and the distance.

She crowns his lap, her knees clamping his naked hips. He holds her, hugging and gripping, feebly and tightly. They get lost in a long, slow sway of delight. Their sighs, echoes in the silence. Feathery and lingering touch of lips pressing on warmth, on beads of brainy zest. Panting promises, feelings, emotions kept hidden against flushed bare skin. Faces twisting with pleasure, pulsing ecstasy choking throats with sounds breed in elation -devotion, love brewed beneath their bodies entwining further and further.

 

Ecstasy turns to numbing bliss, the world goes suddenly still. All light and senses fade to black, and that ethereal ephemeral death nothing but glory.

When it all fades and time breathes new life, their awakening is to tangled limbs, puffed breaths and hearts, pounding still. And truth is, in this very moment, the selfishness gets the better out of them. They both wish they could hold back time and live in this moment, in this small measure of solace, for a while longer.

* * *

 

Jyn awakens to the usual foggy mind, unfocused gaze. What she does not expect to wake up to, when the blurriness fades from her gaze, is the sight of Cassian, all warm brown eyes fixed on her, gazing from above a pool of wrinkled, messy sheets.

"What are you doing?" she slurs, reaching out and then not.

She catches the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes before he moves. She blinks and follows him as he straightens. A pout nudges at her lips when she notices he's already changed into his usual attire. He smiles down at her from above.

"Looking for something," he almost shrugs, and saunters to the opposite end of the room. He leaves something atop the small chair, kneels down to her bag, before sitting on the edge of the bed and flashing her a sheepish smile, "just in case you want to—" he clears his throat, "change."

Jyn suddenly realises that her clothes aren't littered all over the floor, where she's certain she flung them last night. He hands her shirt and her bag. Stifling a giggle, she gets up and heads to the fresher, heat rising in her cheeks when she notices his gaze following her and lingering as she walks past. Boldness bubbles in her chest; she steps on her toes and pecks him on the lips, grabs the shirt and bag and saunters away.

When she flops down onto bed again, Cassian crawls next to her, looping an arm around her to pull her close (she doesn't bother to put on her pants, stretching any potential excuses to _not_ get out bed). She smooths down the wrinkles of his shirt, and then tugs at the lapel. She feels the tremors of his chuckle reverberating under her hand.

"Are you hungry?" Cassian whispers into her hair, while she's busy snuggling into his side and intertwining her fingers with his.

She hums, though going into the crowded canteen for breakfast doesn't fancy her right now —even if she knows it will be far less packed with people than when in headquarters. It might be childish and bordering on ridiculous, but she'd rather starve for a few hours than spending the little time they have together with the privy, curious eyes of others on them.

Luckily for her, Cassian seems to be of the same opinion. She stops tying up her hair and swings her legs back onto bed when he sets the tray on the sheets. It's not much; two steaming cups of caf, three small Pyollian cakes, toasts and —for some reason that escapes Jyn completely— a small bowl of pulled gumbo.

Cassian takes the lid off his cup with careful fingers. She grabs a Pyollian cake and takes a generous bite, licking the sticky orange carbosyrup off her fingers. Jyn can't remember the last time she had breakfast in bed —probably back when she was a child; and the bright green fields of Lah'mu where outside her window.

"Drink your caf, it's going to get cold," he warns, leaning back on the wall.

She arches and eyebrow and leans on the other wall, pillow cushioning her back, takes another bite of the Pyollian cake and ignores the caf completely. Cassian lets out a heavy breath but doesn't argue, merely pushes the plate with the cakes forth, closer to her end of the tray.

"You won't eat that?" she asks, pointing at the second cake dripping syrup onto the dull duraplast.

He takes a sip of his caf before shaking his head, grabs a toast instead. Jyn takes the smaller of the two, and nudges the plate back to Cassian's side. She's too busy keeping the syrup and fruit from falling and staining the sheets to glare at his chuckle. With another nudge, this time with her toes, she shoves the tray in his direction.

Cassian clears his throat and hands her the cup of caf. She rolls her eyes before snatching from his grasp, though a snort creeps up her throat when, slanting her cup to take a sip, she catches a glimpse of him taking the cake from the tray. The caf is strong, bitter, and still _warm_ —she considers mentioning it, along with the fact they're not on some ice rock of a planet, but figures he'll find a way to counter-argue that statement.

She leans forward to grab a toast —there's no kriffing way she's touching the gumbo— when the laughter chokes her. Cassian scrunches up his face at her sudden giggling, with spams of laughter included. She peers through her fingers, covers her mouth to tone down the laugh.

"You have—" she gestures vaguely to his face, "syrup."

He sweeps the back of his hand across his chin, only managing to smear the orange further. Laughter makes her tremble again. With a swift movement, she hunches over and brushes her thumb along his chin.

"There," she practically whispers, before withdrawing back to her spot. A shadow of a smile seems to play over Cassian's lips; there is a glimmer to his eyes and a softness that weren't there a second ago. She hums, and licks the syrup off her thumb.

 

* * *

"Be careful."

"I will," he clasps her wrist, "you too."

She nods, tries to keep her worry from creeping its way into her face.

"I'll call you before I—" he trails off, cranes his neck and his gaze fixes far for a fleeting second. When his eyes fall on her again, it changes back to a gaze, a steady intent look that seems to pull him further into her personal space. "I'll call you before the mission," he says, and by the way his shoulders roll, she's sure he's just fought back reaching for her arm.

It doesn't make much sense. The hangar is crowded; everyone's busy doing something else. Jyn doubts whether anyone is even paying mind to what they're doing. She doubts they are taking note of their every move —she also doubts anyone would say anything to High Command, but Cassian's said he prefers if they're discreet. Jyn figures it has something to do with letting the word out and the danger it poses if any potential enemy puts two and two together, she figures he doesn't want to put her in the eye of the storm while simultaneously allowing people to use her as leverage.

She wishes these past two days could have lingered on for a while longer.

She nods again. The need to pull him into a tight hug aches in every fibre of her body. He gazes at her, a smile dangling now surely on his lips, circles around her. She imitates, following his gaze, locking eyes with his. Pulling into each other's orbit, tension builds intertwined with the warmness and quietness, as if they're about to collide.

The corners of his lips curl, and he gives one last sharp nod. He clicks his tongue and licks his lips before turning on his heels and wandering away. Her nails scrape the synthskin of her gloves. He gazes to one side, then the other. She can see Cassian talking with Kay by some crates a few meters away from the U-Wing. She looks sideways again and heat sweeps over her neck suddenly: Kes is staring at her, face plagued with creases of disbelief, making a not so subtle flourish to the ship she's just lay eyes on with the blaster he's been working on.

She turns on her heels and heads to the opposite end of the hangar, away from Cassian. Before taking the turn to the main hall, she slides to the hangar again in one swift movement. She saunters her way to the U-Wing, shielded by the crates, equipment, ships and people. She can still hear the faint sounds of Cassian arguing with Kay when she walks up the ramp.

 

"Jyn, what are you—"

He never finishes the sentence. His yelp of surprise dies inside her mouth. His fingers dive into her hair and pulls her close. He holds back the grunt when his rushed abruptness makes their teeth clash awkwardly. She tilts her head and breathes him in again; the soft stroke of her tongue ploughing its way through his slightly parted lips sends shivers down his spine. When they pull apart, gasping, panting, he can't help but leaning in and grazing her lips with his again, again and again while her breathing evens, softly capturing her lip for a fleeting moment before withdrawing and coming back once more.

She smiles in those teasing, swift kisses every time. He pulls her into the tight hug she craved for. Nuzzling her neck, he says, barely above a whisper, "I love you."

They cling to each other. They don't pull away when Kay comes clanking up the ramp, only when the ship's comm beeps with an incoming message. He's been given clearance. Jyn squeezes his hand. He kisses her again, and when he does draw back, the brush of his lips leaving hers is painfully slow. His fingers stroke her hair, her cheek. She sucks in a breath; she's going to miss his hand cradling her face like this.

She steps on her toes and presses one last kiss to his mouth.  Her fingers trail and scrape his arm as she walks away. She halts before going down the ramp, flashes him a smile, "may the Force be with you, agent Fulcrum."

"May the Force be with you, Sergeant."

 

Jyn clutches the kyber crystal in her hand, watching the U-Wing shrivel into the distance and the depth of the cloudless Pantoran sky. She tries to hear in between the rustle of the leaves, but if the Force got any message at all, she can't hear it. The polished prism draws a painful, reddened dip on her palm.

She presses her lips together, tries to let her mind focus on the memories they've built on Pantora. The image of Cassian's little smile flashes through her mind, she feels the phantom of that tender kisses on the top of her head. She smiles at the memory of him, beaming at her as he toyed with her hair. A giggle bubbles in her chest at his mortification when she refused, over and over, to try the gumbo — _mustn't taste so bad, you did not squirm revolted just now when you kissed me, did you? Shut up_ , _Cassian_.

She lets her mind dwell on them. In eight standard hours he'd call her through the safe channel. Her heart leaps at the thought. Kes flashes her a knowing, teasing grin when she hands him a cup of caf.

"Didn't know you could smile, Erso."

"Didn't know you enjoy getting yelled at by your girlfriend, Dameron." She takes a sip of her own caf, "if I talk to Shara and she tells me you haven't called, I am punching you in that pretty face of yours."

Kes laughs, and bumps her in the shoulder, "duly noted, Erso, duly noted."

**Author's Note:**

> So... I wanted to tackle Jyn's turmoil and vulnerability, given the circumstances, but also wanted to portray how important this blossoming and growing relationship is for both of them on an emotional level :) They're each other's peace and solace amidst war, and I hope I managed to convey it and do justice to these two. Thanks a lot for reading! (and putting up with the rambling A/N notes). Feedback is sincerely appreciated! :)


End file.
